Hello readers! Once again I am inexcusably behind in my blog posting. One thing you don’t think about when starting a blog (or maybe it’s just me who didn’t think about it) is that it takes an awful lot of time to keep it up and there’s so often something more pressing to do. It’s one month today since the events I’m just now starting to write about, so my memory is a little hazy, but I will do my very best to capture some of the fun that René and I had on our second stint in the Austrian Alps.
Monday 24 June: Austria bound!
We woke up early on Monday – René was hoping to be at the top of Nebelhorn to begin his bivouac by about 11 (and it’s a long hike up). We’d slept in the van at the bottom of the Hochgratbahn, which meant we saved ourselves the 90 minute walk down, but we still needed to pack up the camp, have breakfast, and do a chore in nearby Sonthofen first. So by 8am we were at the bureau, so that René could find out some more about being self-employed in Germany. His employment with Vogelfrei was contingent on him being self-employed somewhere, and so he had to make the choice between becoming self-employed in Germany and becoming self-employed in Czech – he’d already done the latter once, but with no knowledge of the German system we figured it was best to ask the experts so he could make an informed decision. Unfortunately for us the staff member at the bureau knew less than we did about the process and was unable to answer a single question. Useless! But at least it made it a short chore. René ultimately decided to stick with the Czech system as he knows it better.
So after that we bought some food for the bivouac and then drove to Oberstdorf so René could begin his adventure. We had a quick coffee (there hadn’t been time for one in the morning) and then ran into some of the Vogelfrei pilots and got chatting, so in the end René forked out €30 for a ride on the Nebelhornbahn rather than lose valuable flying hours hiking the 2224-metre mountain. We said our goodbyes at about 11 and then I got on the road to Werfenweng.
My plan, as you may recall, was to stay in Bischling for a few days and try to get my 60km XC once and for all, while René bivouaced all the way across the Alps to Vienna, and then we’d reconvene and drive to Czech. It was the first day of the heatwave and driving through the midday sun in the van was highly unpleasant, especially when I got stuck in a traffic jam for about 2 hours just outside of Salzburg. Luckily the drive gave me plenty of time to plan for my upcoming XC attempts, and I realised one very important factor. I was planning to use my phone as my sole flying instrument for my XC flights – it would both display my flight data, and record my tracklog so I would have proof of each flight. But recording and displaying all of this data takes a lot of power, and if I were to be flying for a long time my phone might die on me, depriving me of my in-flight data but also (more importantly for licence reasons) the tracklog proof. So while I was in the traffic jam I looked up a shop in Salzburg that sold a cheap power bank, and made a slight detour to pick one up before heading to Werfenweng for the evening. I would be very thankful that I’d done this within about 24 hours time – my flight the next day would use two-and-a-half times my phone’s battery power.
It was nice to be back in Werfenweng, surrounded by beautiful Bischling, Tennengebirge, and Hochkonig, but strange to be there without René! But I took advantage of this – I’d been wanting to watch The Sound of Music while we were there last time, but René despises musicals and we turned it off after less than 10 minutes. For any readers unfamiliar with this movie (from what I’ve gathered it’s only really popular in western countries), it’s a musical set in Salzburg at the beginning of World War II. It was one of my favourite movies as a child and it was such a pleasure to rewatch it now, having not seen it for at least 15 years, surrounded by the very mountains I could see on the screen. The only downside was that I realise now how dated it is and how ridiculous and anti-feminist the plot is – but the songs were still great! And after that I got an early night, ready for a hike and fly the next morning.
Tuesday 25 June: XC 68km
The next morning dawned bright and hot, even at that early hour. I skipped breakfast (as per usual for me) and even skipped my regular coffee (it’s a diuretic) and drank maybe half a cup of water. That would be all I would drink, on the hottest day of the hottest heatwave in European history, until roughly 5:30 that evening – although I wasn’t to know that at the time. My reason for this was that, as you may recall, during both of my previous attempts to get my 60km straight line flight, I’d had to land because I needed to use the bathroom. This was despite not drinking very much before either flight and using various strategies to try and avoid the issue; and it was such a cause of frustration that I vowed to do everything in my power to avoid it on this, my third attempt.
I began the hike up Bischling at about 8:30. It took a long time to get up – partially because of the heat and dehydration, partially because of the installation of fences. Over the wintertime Bischling is a skifield, and as the snow melts in springtime it’s an easy walk up the grass, but once summer hits fences are erected so that the area can be grazed by herds of cattle. By the time I arrived at the summit (around 10:15) I was feeling very weak, dizzy and nauseous. I lay myself down on a bench outside the summit hut in the shade and tried to steady myself, when a member of staff approached me. I recognised her; on one of our previous hikes of Bischling she’d told René and I off for eating our lunch at one of the outside tables, which were supposed to be for customers only, although she’d allowed us to stay that time as it wasn’t too busy. She asked if I was okay, to which I responded that I would be fine, I just needed to rest and cool down a little. And I was still lying there a few minutes later when she came with a wet towel for me to put on my forehead! I was extremely grateful for the kindness.
After maybe 20 minutes of resting the nausea had subsided a little so I ate a small lunch (two hard-boiled eggs) and then started to prepare my things. Looking to the sky was a bit of a cause for concern – not a single cloud in sight. Clouds are formed by thermals and a lack of them either means it’s stable (and therefore cross-country will be off the cards) or it’s a rare blue-sky thermal day. Blue-sky thermal days sound nice to the non-pilot but watching the size, shape, location and development of individual clouds is how an XC pilot gets 90% of their information about the conditions, and specifically about where to find thermals – so a cloudless blue sky makes the pilot’s job much much harder, as the positions of thermals have to be guessed. I prepared my glider on the east launch, surrounded by other pilots – as the summer season had begun, the gondola was operating every day and plenty of pilots were flocking to the site. I was still a bit shaky for my first launch attempt, and bungled it, but made it into the air on the second attempt.
I knew from the previous two flights that I needed to be at least 2500 metres above sea level before attempting the first jump across the southern valley – given the blue sky conditions, I wanted to be higher to give myself a greater margin of error. There were definitely thermals around, but they were rough and turbulent, hard to find and even harder to hang on to, and I found myself climbing to about 2300 metres multiple times only to lose the thermal and drop back down to 2000. There were plenty of other gliders flying and we were often sharing thermals – one funny incident that stuck in my mind was when I was sharing a thermal with another pilot, and I was close enough to see that he was a man in his 50s or older. When he finally exited the thermal he flew just a few metres away from me, took out an old-fashioned camera (one of those little silver ones that were popular in the mid 2000’s) and took a photo of me! I can’t say I’ve ever had that happen before. Finally, after 90 minutes of struggling to get the height I needed, I set out from 2500 metres heading south, knowing that given the starting height my margin of error once I reached the other side was pretty much non-existent. There were three pilots in front of me attempting the same jump, which had given me the confidence to go for it – I could see where they flew and if they lifted or sank, and make decisions using that data. I arrived at the other side of the valley below the ridgeline (roughly 1700 metres ASL), and was scratching around trying to find something that could take me above it to where the decent thermals would be. High above me I watched as the three pilots thermalled up and then jumped away to the east. It was a long time before I found anything worthwhile and I had almost started to think about bailing out, but eventually I fought my way above the ridgeline. High above the peak were two fluffy clouds in that big blue sky – by watching them I could pinpoint a thermal and climb it all the way to the base.
From there, with just over 3000 metres above sea level, I began the second big jump of the flight, to the west. This time I made it with a fair bit of height to spare – nice for a change! I battled west along the ridges, past Hochkonig (seeing it from the air is an unreal experience!) towards Zell am See and my final destination, Pinzgau Valley. The further west I went, the stronger the headwind became – this was an unanticipated development which I was not happy to encounter! My glider is great for XC except when I have to fly into a headwind – René and I joke that in these conditions my glider both looks and flies like your average mattress. The combination of the headwind and the challenging thermals made me very slow – what I could normally have flown in an hour took 90 minutes at least – but I kept fighting. Luckily I managed to maintain a decent height above the ground, and I just kept pushing forward as best I could. I even broke my all-time height record, just before the jump across Zell am See town – 3400 metres above sea level, almost 2 and a half kilometres above the valley floor. What you can’t see from up there isn’t worth seeing!
The jump across Zell am See went smoothly – I even ate a piece of stale bread and took a sip of water while I waited – and I could see plenty of pilots flying from Pinzgau Ridge, which bolstered my confidence. I took the so-called “high road” along the top of the ridge – the last time I’d flown here I took the “low road”, closer to the valley floor and jumping from rib to rib rather than riding along the spine. But even though I’d heard that the high road of Pinzgau is legendary for its thermals, I found myself struggling to find them. I kept pushing along the top as far as I could, but eventually they just stopped altogether. I sank down and steered out into the valley a bit, hoping that I could find some lift, but instead finding nothing but a strong headwind. My phone was telling me I’d flown 68km – the last time I’d attempted this I’d flown 65km, but it still hadn’t counted because it had only been 55km in a straight line from launch to landing. Unfortunately there’s no way to make the phone display the straight line distance in flight, as only the NZHGPA cares about straight line distance, so there’s no demand for such a feature – it’s displayed in the tracklog data when you review the flight on landing. In the air, I had no way of knowing when I’d made the required 60km straight line – but as I sank I knew it was a coin flip whether I’d make it or not.
I was so exhausted by this point – I’d been flying 5 hours with no meaningful food or water, in intense UV radiation from the sun but intense cold from the altitude, and my body and mind seemed about ready to give up on me. But I kept pushing into the headwind as I sank, cursing the conditions, terrified that after so much effort and pain I might land 100 metres too close. Strategising, I flew diagonally across the valley so that my distance from the landing would be that little bit extra, coming in low over the busy highway, crossing the train tracks just before a train came, and finally touching down in a nice open field. The heat was intense and I quickly stripped off my puffer jacket, merino jumper, pants and thermal underwear that I’d worn to protect against the cold. And only after that did I check my phone for the straight line distance: 60 kilometres and 370 metres. It wasn’t by a lot, but finally, finally, I’d done it.
Total distance: 68.64km
Total time: 5 hours 8 minutes
Note: taking GoPro footage was my absolutely lowest priority for this flight, and given my physical and mental state during it it’s not too surprising that I forgot to video the launch, the landing and plenty of other bits in between. I also had my camera adjusted a bit too high for lots of the footage. But it’s still a good video for showing at least a little bit of the beauty of the Austrian Alps in this flight!
I knew I should celebrate but first I needed to get back to the camp and fix my poor, much-maligned body. The heat and extreme dehydration had left me struggling to keep my eyes focussed and with a feeling as if someone was hitting me on the forehead with a hammer every second or so. I downed my 750ml water bottle in one in the hopes it might help, then packed my glider and walked to the road. As I did I texted René the good news; he was very happy for me, but also disappointed for himself – his bivouac hadn’t gone to plan. As I had noticed, the further west one went the fewer thermals there were until there were none at all – and he had been much further west than I had been, meaning that he didn’t stand much of a chance. Heatwaves are generally pretty good to fly in, but sometimes they’re just too hot, resulting in stable air – and that was exactly what had happened this time. He was on the train to Werfen, and would meet me there.
I was very lucky with getting home. I stood at the bus stop, intending to catch a bus to Zell am See and get the same train as René, with my thumb out while I waited just in case someone was feeling generous. And in fact two people were – a couple of kind Austrian men, driving an empty passenger van to somewhere north of Salzburg. I sat in the back seat with the window open and tried to cool down for an hour as we drove towards the city. They gave me a lift all the way to Werfenweng, even though it was several kilometres off the highway, and I was beyond grateful – I wasn’t really functional enough to do anything at that point. It was a 20 minute walk from Werfenweng to the van and I arrived there just as René was arriving at Werfen train station. So I guzzled some more water and drove to get him. Fun fact: driving when you’re experiencing severe dehydration is a lot like driving tipsy! But I made it in one piece (thank God) and we went to the supermarket where we bought dinner things and a large sports drink full of electrolytes as plain water still didn’t seem to be helping my hammering headache. It did the trick and we spent a pleasant evening together smoking shisha and enjoying the sunset over beautiful Hochkonig, and I went to sleep with a huge smile on my face.
Wednesday 26 June: Drachenwand Klettersteig
Wednesday and Thursday were both forecasted to be stable so on Wednesday morning René and I decided it was time to leave Werfenweng and enjoy some of the other mountain delights that the Austrian Alps have to offer. Shortly after we arrived in Europe we’d bought via ferrata sets, and decided that now would be the perfect time to break them in. For any readers unfamiliar with via ferrata, it’s similar to rock climbing but on (marginally) less steep slopes, and instead of climbing with a rope you carabiner yourself to a large metal cable and follow that up the rock face. After a bit of browsing we found the must-do Drachenwand ferrata (or Klettersteig, as it’s called in German), slightly east from Salzburg. So we packed up the camp and headed towards the starting point, near the beautiful village and accompanying lake, Mondsee. And if there’s one thing I can say about the Drachenwand Klettersteig, it sure is set on an impressive piece of rock!
We parked at the designated starting area, dug out our ferrata kits from the depths of the van, and began the hike through the forest to get to the rock face. Even in the shade of the trees the heat was absolutely intense. We arrived at the bottom of the ferrata, got into our harnesses and helmets, and began to climb. Within about 5 minutes I was uncomfortable; within 15 I was scared. The rock face was extremely steep and the rocks themselves had been worn smooth from the countless ferrata-goers, making them very slippery. Obviously we were carabinered to the cable but if you fall it can be up to 5 metres in some places, and you kind of slide painfully down the rock rather than falling away from it like you do in climbing, due to the closeness of the cable. They’re also one-use only – I think of it as being like the emergency parachute in my glider, in that they’ll save your life but you’ll probably break something if you use it. As well as that, ferratas are done in regular sneakers rather than climbing shoes, meaning I couldn’t use my toes to grip the rock like I normally do in climbing. René, as always, was fearless – he trusted his gear and trusted his ability to climb the route, so there was nothing to be afraid of, but I trusted neither my gear nor my ability. But as we got further up the ferrata I became more used to it and more trusting of my ability, and it became much easier. As we climbed the view became more and more incredible, looking out over Mondsee lake.
About two-thirds of the way through we came to fork in the ferrata – we could continue left, towards the summit, or go on a detour to the right, towards a swinging bridge. We chose the latter and it was the highlight of the whole ferrata. In the Drachenwand rock face, hundreds of metres above the valley, was a huge rift with a wire bridge going across it, and on the other side was a wooden bench, screwed into the side of the cliff. We made our way there to sit down and enjoy the view, and it was only while sitting that René felt any fear! I was very comfortable but even though we were still attached to the cable René was so uncomfortable that we didn’t stay long. Another couple of ferrata-goers overtook us as we were sitting there – they offered to take a photo of us, which we happily accepted, only they took it with their phone and after they overtook us we didn’t see them again! But at least I got a photo of René just before crossing the bridge.
The last part of the ferrata was very intense – more like regular climbing, but still without the safety of a rope – and culminated in a sheer face with iron bars sticking out of it that had to be used like steps. And then we were at the top! The view was stunning. We enjoyed it while we packed our ferrata sets back into the backpacks, and then began the long walk down, following a trail through the forest behind the rock face.
By the time we reached the valley again we were exhausted and extremely sweaty, so we drove to beautiful Mondsee lake and had a lovely swim to cool off. Our intention for the next day was to have a few flights at Mt Gaisberg before driving to Czechia, as I need to get my numbers up for my license, so we drove there that evening and slept in the van beside the landing zone. All in all, a good day!
Thursday 27 June: Flying Gaisberg
Thursday was the last day of the heatwave. René and I were woken early by the heat and had a leisurely morning watching pilots land from the shade of the van – so leisurely that we forgot we were supposed to be getting the 9:50 bus to the launch, and it was only when another pilot asked me what the time was at 9:40 that we remembered! After a scramble to pack our things and brush our teeth we made it to the bus stop and shortly after 10am we were on the launch. There we met Wolfie, René’s future employer, and had a nice chat with him before setting up our gear and preparing for flight. The intense heat meant I was flying in just a sports bra and shorts, and it sure is refreshing to have that 40kmh breeze on your exposed skin! There was a strong westerly, meaning good soaring from the west launch, and I intended to practice my touch-and-go’s – a technique where you land back on the launch, stand there for a few seconds without putting the glider down, and then launch again. This helps a pilot learn how to top-land (i.e. land on the launch) but with the added bonus for me that each touchdown counted as the end of a flight and each launch was the beginning of another one, meaning I could get 10 flights in 20 minutes if I really wanted to. Unfortunately though I missed my shot – I was having plenty of fun just flying for 10 minutes, then as soon as I made up my mind to try my first touch-and-go, the wind lessened and I dropped below the launch and ended up having to land 10 minutes later. Bugger!
René did a couple of touch-and-go’s and then landed too, and caught the bus up again although the conditions were starting to look questionable. Sure enough, when we got to the top the wind had completely switched direction, coming from the north rather than the west, and was so strong that not a single other pilot was flying. We set up our gliders anyway, and I had to cripple mine with the brake lines to stop it from launching on its own! René went first, then me – it wasn’t the most pleasant launch but I managed it just fine and I’m always happy to practice launching in challenging conditions. In the air I was barely moving forward, and had to use the speed bar to make some headway, going straight for the landing. It was a short flight but a valuable one, and we packed up quickly to head back to Mondsee for lunch. After our usual snack (bread and hummus) and lovely refreshing dip in the lake we began the drive to Czech Republic. So much for our promise to only drive at night from now on! But the traffic wasn’t too bad. We ended up the day just over the border of Czech, in a little village called Lednice known for a beautiful castle and excellent local wines. We wandered around the castle grounds for an hour or so then found a spot underneath a lookout tower to enjoy some delicious local white wine and sleep.
Epilogue
The next morning we were up early to drive the final couple of hours back to Frýdek-Místek. Several interesting things happened over our 5 day stay in Czech, probably just enough for a small blog post which I’ll begin writing when I have some time. The word count of my posts has been creeping up with each update – I can’t remember the last time I wrote one of less than 4000 words! But I’ll do my best. Stay tuned 🙂
The Barefoot Pilot 